


Weight Lifting

by ThatwasJustaDream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: 1-million-words, Dean/Cas Love, Destiel kisses, M/M, This is romantic for them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8251238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: Dean's feeling all right about the week but the two people around him, who he cares about deeply, have stuff on their minds. He's one to cut to the chase...and he's happy to lift the weight for them both.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaige68](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaige68/gifts).



“Your friend’s the brooding type, isn’t he?” Mary looked away from where Dean was working under Baby's hood, nodding toward the open field behind the motel.

Dean lifted his head, not quite half way through the monthly oil change, valve check, breakdown-preventive-medicine work he liked to do when there was room to breathe.

The field was a wide swath of brush that went all way back along the highway, further than the eye could see; full of nothing but thorny weeds, a stunted tree or two and knee-high yellow-green grass. It wasn’t the prettiest place for a stroll, but Cas clearly wasn’t out there for the scenery. Even from this distance, Dean could see he was deep inside his own angel head as he slowly made his way back toward them.

“He can be, yeah. No doubt…” Dean put the wrench in his hand back to work. “But he’s quick on his feet when shit goes down. You’ll see, mom; you haven’t had a chance to watch him at his best, yet. Where are you going?”

Mary had a cinch bag over one shoulder and was flipping through a wallet.

“For a walk of my own. There’s a kitchen in the motel office. The manager said I can use it to make us a home cooked meal if he gets a plate and some of the leftovers. Seemed like a fair trade, and I think you could use an actual hot, balanced dinner for once.”

“I am _not_ turning that down,” Dean kept working but twisted to look up at her and felt his heart rise at the warm, fond look he was getting back. “Why don’t you wait? I’m almost done here, I’ll drive you.”

“That’s all right; what you’re doing matters, and the grocery store’s only a tenth of a mile. I could use a chance to do a little thinking of my own.”

Dean nodded and watched her go, then re-focused on baby. He was pretty much done, searching for the rag to wipe the grease off his hands when Castiel approached and stopped a few feet away from him.

“That’s the third time in four days you’ve wandered off,” Dean said. “Want to talk about it?"

“Thanks, but… I can’t. Not with you.”

“Nothing’s… wrong with your grace, is it?” Dean looked him up and down as he cleaned up, watching Castiel shuffling from foot to foot, visibly conscious of Dean’s direct gaze. “I mean, I know you’re still healing but you haven’t said much, so I figured….”

“I’m fine, Dean. I’m well.”

“Huh. So, ‘talk to the hand,’ is that what you’re telling me? Sorry, but…. that won’t do. C’mon… spill.”

“I …can’t. There are many times I seek your counsel, but this can't be one of them. I’ll figure it out for myself, what to do about my problem.”

“Cas, I don’t know how to say this diplomatically so… I’ll just say it: Every time you ‘figure things out for yourself,’ zero good comes of it. Leviathans come of it. Psych wards come of it. We get stuck in Purgatory or Lucifer takes over your vessel. So tell me what’s wrong, or I will march you over there and put you up against the bricks of that motel wall until you do.”

Dean watched Castiel listen to his increasingly frustrated diatribe, Cas’ expression going from perturbed to squinty to faintly amused; the corners of his mouth rising along with his chin, his eyes dancing like he maybe he wanted to remind Dean who in their shared history had most often put the other against a wall.

“Okay, then…it's this: Your mother disapproves of me or, rather, of my feelings for you. She knows that we are not …platonic. I’m concerned about how that will affect us, because… how could it not? I'm also concerned about how it will affect the two of you and how you relate, and I don't want to be the cause of problems for you.”

“What do you mean she _knows_? It's not like I told her, 'ma; me and him, we've been going at it lately and I don't mean fighting.'"

“Dean…. have you forgotten I can read people again? I _know_ that she knows. She has asked herself what we are to each other more than once the last few days and....yesterday she formed an answer. She is _not_ happy about it. She simply hasn't told you yet."

“Huh. Well…there it is. We haven’t exactly discussed it, either, have we? What we are?”

“Clearly.”

“You can read _me_ again, too?”

“Yes.”

“So you know that I feel….”

“Conflicted.”

“Good word choice.”

“Also desirous. Hungry for it – _so_ much of the day; for me, for the way that our bodies…”

“Jeez… woah. Okay....Cas...look; I'm a grown man despite occasional outward appearances, so …you don't have anything to worry about. It's not like we're romantic and we're gonna throw it in her face every five seconds. I will talk with her eventually but.... it's all still...weird. Her even being here. You know?"

“I do know. And I’m sorry, Dean. I told you I didn’t want to say anything about it.”

Cas moved and Dean assumed he would step around him and go inside - until Cas was right there; forget about personal space, he was three inches away, eyes asking for Dean’s and then going to Dean’s mouth.

“Cas….”

“…but I am very glad,” Cas reached in and planted the lightest of kisses on his cheek, next to Dean’s lips. “….that we are not, apparently…done. Very glad.”

“Well of course not,” Dean watched him start to walk back to their room. “Hey…”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I …do love you, you know?”

“Thank you. I do love you, too.”

And then Castiel, master of awkward, kept right on walking toward the motel room.

“Cas, babe…”

“Yes?”

“It’s kind of traditional, after the ‘l’ word, to have a kiss. Like…a real kiss. You know? The kind you’re into, where you get your tongue halfway down my throat?”

“Oh,” Cas was back in a hurry. “Of course….”

Dean was half stifling a laugh by the time their lips met, and damn if that wasn’t a third of the fun, how his strange, dorky angel made him smile. 

The other two thirds wasn’t so bad, either; the way their mouths found each other and pressed just right – soft and then harder, more open for each other. But not too fast – no abruptness, just a sweet slide from presses to licks to tongues gliding and dueling.

Cas had this thing he did with his tongue; a dance that suggested, somehow, where else he’d like to have his mouth, what he’d like to be doing with it. 

Dean got an arm under Cas’ jacket and around his waist to pull him in; let the fingers of his other hand find the waves of Cas’ hair and slide in to tug and tease and… frankly keep control of this ‘cause if he didn’t Cas’ took over in a hurry. Dean wanted to savor it a while, and that meant staying on top of the tongue thrashing. Thank God he had a couple of inches on him, that helped.

“Ohh….” Cas sighed when Dean let him up for air for a second.

“So good,” Dean flicked his way back in again, angling Cas' head, their tongues twisting slower, now, but still so strong and well-matched and ....damn. “You always feel so good.”

“It’s a shame,” Castiel said, between decelerating sucks and swirls. “…that you’ll never know how good you feel.” 

“Can you use your angel powers to see how long until Mary gets back?”

“Not exactly, ‘see,’ but…”

“Only need a number, man,” Dean let his arms fall; dug fingers and palms into Cas’ butt to pull him in until they were rubbing, reaching in to nip at that sweet lower lip. “…that’s all. Give me a number.”

“Thirty seven and half minutes. Give or take the thirty seconds.”

“That’ll do it. C’mon. If…you want to?”

Castiel tried to save them some time by zapping them both into the room, which nearly made Dean lose his lunch and almost put a kibosh on the whole proceedings, but… Castiel didn’t mind Pepto-Bismol flavored kisses and they only lost two minutes in the process, so they were good.

~*~

 

“You did _not_ …” Dean watched Mary bringing over a pie from the office countertop, to the table a few feet away from the office front desk where they’d had their meal.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t smell it,” She set it down and went to put the potholders back.

“I smelled nutmeg, but… I didn’t dare to hope.”

Dean happened to look over at Cas, then. Even though Cas was doing his best to keep a straight face, he could see how much the angel was enjoying it, Dean being so happy about an apple pie and who had baked it for him.

Cas was happy because Cas loved him, Dean reasoned. And his mom did, too, so…..

He reached his left hand to ask for Cas’ while Mary cut the pie; asking for his eyes, too, and giving him the quickest of winks.

It wasn’t anything over the top, but he knew she’d spotted their fingers still entwined; knew from the tiny flinch and the even tinier shake of her head as she plated the pie and handed it around.

“Castiel, will you have one, too?” 

Mary handed him a slice with a smile that said all would be well with them, however she felt about it. Castiel took it with a low, rumbled ‘thank you,’ and they ate in silence again.

And even though the weight of this day had never had been on his mind or on his shoulders? Dean was very happy to see it lifted off the two of them. 

Plus… pie.


End file.
